Christmas Mystry
by bundysbaby
Summary: You may wish to read the first two stories, Christmas Magic and Christmas Mischief. Elmer the Elf is back with a big mystery at the North Pole and needs his detective... or does he? Thank you to everyone who read and comments on my stories! Your kindness certainly makes my day brighter!


"_Jamie._ Mama is tired," Jim said with asperity. His five-year-old was not being very cooperative, crying for Trixie and stirring up Justin and Alexander. Whatever were they thinking, having three kids in five years… and now she was pregnant again.

And due any day, from the looks of things.

"Mama is _always_ tired," the little boy stuck out his bottom lip and sulked. "And _fat_**.**"

Jim glanced towards the doorway, grimacing. He hoped Trixie didn't hear that last bit. She was weepier and more tired with this pregnancy than any other. And bigger, too.

"Mama is _not_ fat, honey," he explained patiently to the little boy. His firstborn was staring at him out of tear-filled, identical green eyes. "She has babies in her tummy." Again. Babies. _Plural._

_"I don't care,"_ Jamie sniffed. He wanted Mama to go sledding with him. She was always so much fun. Even funner than Daddy sometimes. She had this great big laugh and could even make Daddy stop what he was doin' for a snowball fight. Mama was real pretty, too, with her bright blue eyes and long, curly blonde hair. Him and Justin and Alex all looked like Daddy, and they all thought – even Daddy - that Mama's yellow hair was _magic_. You could pull on one of those curls and it would bounce right back!

And now Mama was _just no fun at all._

Jim sat on his mini-me's bed and pulled his son close. "That's not nice, Jamie. You want to hurt Mama's feelings and make her cry?" Jamie was overtired; Trix was, well, at the mercy of her hormones was a _charitable_ way of putting it.

"Noooo," he said slowly. "I lub Mama."

"And we both love you and your brothers. But you're a big boy now and you have to be an example to your siblings."

"What's sblinks, Daddy?" Jamie liked it when his daddy talked to him as if he were a big boy. It made him feel important.

"Siblings. Your brothers, Alex and Justin, are your siblings. Aunt Honey is my sibling." _And Bailey and Finn are going to be your siblings any day now. _

Oy.

"And Uncle Mart, Uncle Brian and Uncle Bobby are Mama's sblinks, right, Daddy?" Jamie shouted as Jim winced. Was their household _ever_ going to get below 110 decibels?

"Right, honey. Mama's reading to Alex and Justin, so how about I read you a story? What is your pleasure, sir?" Jim waggled his eyebrows and Jamie burst into a fit of high-pitched laughter. He and Trixie took turns with the boys, reading to them every night, and he thanked the Lord tonight was _his _night with their firstborn.

He didn't need another pregnancy meltdown if Trixie heard Jamie calling her _fat_.

"Read _The Night Afore Christmas_, Daddy. Santa is going to be coming soon, and I have been a _very_ good boy." Jamie nodded his head once, sure that Santa would wholeheartedly agree.

Jim rolled his eyes, kissed his son's head, and pulled out the book.

Later on, he found his gorgeous wife propped up in bed with the many pillows she needed to support her ungainly figure. "How's my special girl?" Jim murmured as he slipped into bed beside her.

"Fat and ugly and tired of having your sons standing on my bladder," she retorted. It wasn't _fair._Here she looked like the Goodyear Blimp and Jim was his normal virile, supple, very male self.

_Although maybe all that virility wasn't so great,_ she sighed to herself, looking at her distended abdomen. She glanced up into his concerned green eyes and dismissed that thought. He still jingled _her _bells!

"Not too long now, Trix. Do you think you can hold out another week or so?" The babies were due the beginning of January, but the obstetrician was getting concerned about Trixie's blood pressure. She was a petite woman and the twins were almost at term.

"It's all up to Bailey and Finn," she shrugged. Man, her back hurt today.

Jim's big, talented hands began to massage her gently, and before long, she relaxed into sleep, with her husband following a little while later after checking on the kids. He stared down at her, so pretty in sleep, and thanked God for his blessings. All four of the ones that _were_ here, and the two that were yet to come.

Martha Claus was tapping her foot, hands on hips and her lovely eyes shooting sparks. "I tell you, Nick," she was complaining, and rather loudly. "I did _not_ misplace the Reindeer Games cookie recipe. I keep it in the same place. In my recipe box."

Nick Claus turned his attention from Control Central, where he monitored the behavior of all his children, all over the world. They weren't his biological children, but they might as well have been. He loved each and every one of them as if they were his own.

"Marty, I keep telling you. Why don't you just have one of the elves copy down all the recipes into your iPad?" He rolled his eyes.

"Taking a chance the elves may decide to mix up all the ingredients for fun? And take a chance of losing them all? Oh no!"

Nick had to chuckle. She really didn't hear herself, so he just had to point it out. "You lost one, a very important one, anyway." He really did love the way her cheeks pinked up when she was in a temper, and guffawed loudly as she pivoted and flounced out of the room.

"You just wait, Nicholas Claus," she called back. "Just _wait._ Your flying reindeer aren't going to fly very well without those special cookies now, are they?" She would have slammed the door, except it opened and closed automatically with a silent whoosh. Not quite as satisfying as a loud, angry bang.

Nick sat down rather heavily. Yes, she was quite right. That little point had certainly slipped his mind when the opportunity to tease her arose. The Reindeer Games were in one day. Afterward, they all feasted on the special cookies that Mrs. Claus baked especially for them.

The cookies that gave them the extra _oomph_ needed to take off into the night sky with the heavily laden sled and one jolly… pleasingly plump guy. It was the helper elves that added that extra weight.

Nick jammed one fat finger on the Panic Button, the bright red blinking button that was heard and felt in all the warehouses, workshops, reindeer and elven residences at the North Pole and bellowed into the intercom. "Elmer! Control Central at _once!"_

The various other inhabitants of the Pole jumped as the strobing red lights and loud diesel horn preceded the announcement. Elmer the Elf was the Grand High Poohbah or Lord of The Elves or whatever the title was, and he was just about ready to resign. The stress of it all, especially around The Big Day, was turning his once bright red hair into… into a winter wonderland of white. Next thing you know, he'd be sprouting a white beard and the other elves would be called him Santa Jr.

Not to mention the fact that he and Santa had a very tenuous relationship ever since Santa caught him looking up the missus' skirt at the after-Christmas party a few years back. As Elmer stomped over to the main house, he was muttering his discontent. "It was years ago! You think he'd get over it by now! I was drunk, after all." Elmer blamed his lack of… decorum on a few too many shots of Patrón with candy cane pieces. He hadn't touched the stuff since. Besides, Martha Claus was _hot!_

And he _really _should not be thinking about that since he was a family man now. He married his Emma a year or so ago and pretty soon little Ermingard would be making her appearance. But it all went to show he was a reformed elf.

_Mostly._

The door whooshed open before he could even announce his presence, and that was never good. Santa was up in the alts about something, and Elmer only hoped it wasn't his fault. He trudged into the brightly lit Control Central, his elf slippers jingling merrily in contrast to his mood.

Nick Claus was studying the big board, grunting now and again, and making Elmer cool his curly toes until he was satisfied with whatever he was viewing. _Office politics! They suck! _

"Elmer, I need to know if you or any of the elves are fooling around again," he began, a stern note in his booming voice. It might be better if he replaced all these elves with robots. But then, an army of R2-D2s just didn't have the same warm fuzzy feeling as jolly elves singing while they worked. "Mrs. Claus is missing the recipe for the special Reindeer Games cookies. She swears she returned it to her recipe box last year."

Elmer's lime-green eyes grew very wide, as the tips of his pointed ears became tinged with a darker green. "No, Santa," he declared firmly. "Well… at least not that I know of," he amended.

"You know this is the time of the year the all get rather… torqued up. Not just with the Christmas rush, but it's elf mating season, too. Sometimes they don't use the best judgment."

"You know the reindeer need those cookies to be able to take off in flight on Christmas Eve."

Elmer began pacing back and forth, the bells on his curly elf shoes jingling all the way. "I know, Santa. I know. I'll call an emergency Elf Convocation right now. If one of us borrowed it," and Elmer looked mighty grim, "It shall be returned. I promise."

Nick Claus sat back in his chair, facing the Big Screen once more. "I hope that you do find it, Elmer," he rumbled. "Because I don't know how the reindeer will take off without them."

Elmer stomped out of Control Central and back to the broom closet allotted to the Grand Vizier of the Elves, mumbling under his breath all the way there. Once inside, he slammed his clenched fist over the GREEN panic button on his battered and scarred desk.

As soon as he completed that little task, flashing green lights began to, well, flash in all the places elves were either working, playing or playing at work. Even the reindeer stables had the annoying flicker of lime green. The elves quickly made their way to the large auditorium that doubled as their meeting place and an extra warehouse when needed. Everyone was murmuring as they entered, figuring it was another elf drill.

However, the thunderous look on Elmer's face dispelled _that_ notion. A mottled green flush was not exactly making him look like Playelf of the Month. This was the real thing.

As soon as the crowd quietened down, Elmer began to speak. "Santa just called me to Control Central." Each of the elves in the audience glanced around, wondering what the other elf did to make Santa unhappy.

"It appears that Mrs. Claus' secret recipe for Reindeer Games cookies has been… um, misplaced. Now I know it's Elf Mating Season, our busy time on top of that and some of us may be in rather boisterous mood. _Some_ of us may think it is awfully funny to prank the Clauses like that." Elmer's voice was deceptively mild.

"However, it is **NOT**!" he thundered out. "The team _needs_ those special cookies to take off with the sleigh. If the recipe is not returned, why, Christmas might have to be cancelled!" The furious green tint to his face faded.

"No questions asked. If any of you did decide to borrow the recipe, please put it in my inbox in the next hour. No questions asked, no repercussions. Any questions?"

"Yeah, I have one," Elspeth said. "Mrs. Claus has been making the cookies for years. She doesn't have the recipe memorized?"

Elmer sighed. Elspeth was relatively new, and like most of the kids, didn't read her elven history. "There is one ingredient that changes every year. Mrs. Claus never knows what it is, so she needs to refer to the magic recipe."

"Oh."

"Now, shoo everyone. I expect the recipe to be back in my inbox shortly."

An hour later, Elmer was staring at his quite empty inbox. _No_ recipe, _no_ Christmas, and maybe _no _more North Pole and _no_ more Santa Claus. And that would mean no more _elves_, either. He was sure that the elves understood the gravity of the situation.

Maybe.

He needed professional help.

And there was only one professional he would trust with a case like this. The same woman who helped them a few years ago during the Great Elfnapping Caper.

Trixie Belden Frayne.

He placed a call down to the reindeer wrangler. "Ermine? Can you get Blitzen ready? I need to make a quick trip to the States."

A little while later, Elmer was standing by Trixie's bed, his face a mask of dismay. There was no way she'd be able to help them _now_. She resembled one of those fat dumplings Mrs. Claus made that was double-stuffed with chocolate. In fact, Trixie looked like she was about to _burst._

Elmer tiptoed out of the room into the hallway, and bumped right into a body as small as his. _Another elf?_ Both let out a startled gasp, and Jim shifted in the big bed, wondering if he heard something. When all was quiet, he fell back into a deep sleep.

The little boy was looking at Elmer, his emerald green eyes wide with amazement. Seeing the open door, Elmer took the boy's hand and led him back into the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Are you one of Santa's _elves?"_ Jamie was awestruck. Mama had told him some funny stories about the elves. And here was one, right in his room!

"Yeah, kid." Elmer sighed, sitting on the little chair. He looked _so_ unhappy, Jamie felt real bad.

"Are you sad?" Jamie put his hand on the rather bony knee encased in bright green tights.

"Yeah, I came down to ask your Mama if she could help with a mystery up at the North Pole, but…" Elmer trailed off, not sure what to say.

"She's too fat!" Jamie clapped a hand over his mouth. His daddy would not be too happy with him if he heard him call Mama fat again.

"That's one way of putting it," Elmer snarked a bit. Now what was he going to do?

"You have a mystry? I'm really good at mystries," Jamie bragged, hooking a thumb at his chest. "Daddy says I could even be a 'tective like Mama!"

"You are, kid? That's nice," Elmer said absently. Now it was back up to the NP and… _what_ was that the kid said?

"Really, Mr. Elf. I'm just as good as Mama." Jamie crossed his fingers behind his back. He truly wasn't as good as Mama, 'cause she was the best 'tective in the whole world. But he _was_ good at solving things.

Elmer eyed the kid once more. He looked like that Jim Frayne, the man Trixie had married – after Mrs. Claus arranged a little gift mix-up years ago. But maybe, just maybe, the kid inherited the detective-ing gene of his Mama. Crushed candy canes, what did he have to lose?

"What's your name, kid?"

"James Wheeler Frayne. Jamie," he said importantly, sticking his chest out.

"Okay, Jamie. How would you like to come up to the North Pole and help solve a mystery?"

Jamie's eyes grew wide with excitement and he jumped up and down. "Really truly? How do we get there? Do I get to meet Santa? Can Alex and Justin come?"

"_Shhhh._ You'll wake _everyone._ So many questions! We'll ride back on Blitzen. Santa might not be around but if he is I'm sure he'll want to meet you. Whoever Alex and Justin are, they can't come. No room," he hastened to add when Jamie stuck out his lower lip in a pout.

"I'm gonna go tell Daddy and Mam…" he was dashing out of the room, when Elmer pulled him back in.

"You can't tell anyone. It's a _secret,"_ he hissed.

"But Daddy and Mama said I hafta tell them when…"

"This is _North Pole_ business, kid. _Magic._ Now do you want to help or not?"

"Y… yeah." Jamie made up his mind, even if he had a funny feeling in his belly about disobeying his parents.

"Great! Let's go!"

Before Jamie could blink an eye, they were on a big reindeer and flying through the clear night sky._"Woahhhhhh."_

He knew it was cold out, but it was nice and warm on Blitzen's back, even if he did only have his footie jammies with the smiling reindeer on. In the twinkling of one of the stars that looked so close he could reach out and touch it, they were approaching the North Pole and its myriad of buildings centered around the large castle where Santa and Mrs. Claus lived.

Jamie was trying to be brave, but he did get scared when the ground rose up to meet them and he clutched at Blitzen's fur. The reindeer made a great four-legged landing and trotted over the cobbled street to the stables, where Elmer and Jamie slid off onto the Elf Stairs.

"This way to my office, kid," Elmer ordered, and began to walk down a twisty and turny hallway, all with two sets of doors. One for big people and one elven-sized. He wanted to stop and look; all the rooms were busy with dozens of elves doing product testing and design on new toys.

They finally came to Elmer's office, and it was small, even for an elf. "Now, here's your assignment, kid," he said to Jamie. "Mrs. Claus has special cookies she makes every year to help the reindeer take off with Santa and all those toys. Every year, one ingredient changes by magic. This year," he paused dramatically, "The recipe is _missing_. If there are no cookies, the reindeer can't take off and… no Christmas."

Whatever Elmer was expecting, he did not think the little boy was going to burst into loud, gut-wrenching sobs. He sat there, flummoxed, as Jamie cried.

"No Christmas?" he hiccoughed. "For real?"

"Yup. And that's where you come in, kid. So ya gotta buck up" He handed Jamie a tissue. "None of the elves admitted to taking it, and I just don't know where to start looking."

Jamie thought hard about what Mama said. _Start at the beginning._

"Can you show me where the recipe usedta be?" he asked shyly, still sniffling.

"Sure. Hop on." Elmer jumped on an electric three-wheeled scooter and headed off towards the kitchen at breakneck speed. Jamie was giggling behind him as elves and toys and windows whizzed by.

They skidded to a stop in the huge, gleaming kitchen. "Wow. This is even bigger than my Grandma Maddie's and Mama's!" There were a multitude of ovens and huge freezers and refrigerators and cabinets as far as the eye could see.

"Look up, kid. See that box marked Recipes? The big red one."

Jamie followed the pointing finger to see an enormous, fancy red wood box with the letters R-E-C-I-P-E-S.

"I don't think an elf stold it," he declared.

Elmer stared at the kid. He sounded so _sure_. "Why not?"

"See, you can't reach and it neither can I. Even if you had a helper, it's still too far and the box is real big. They would drop it."

"How do you figure that?" Elmer was curious as to Jamie's reasoning.

Jamie rolled his eyes. "'Cause me and Justin and Alex tried to get into the cookie jar one day," he shared, nervously looking around. _If Santa found out_…

"So?"

"They was able to help me get up, but the jar was too heavy and I _droppeditanditbroke_. Mama was sure mad at us." Just for that, they couldn't have cookies for a week! And Daddy laughed when Mama told on them, but he looked sorta mad when he talked to them. Only he had a feeling it was _pretend_ mad with Daddy.

Elmer was stunned. The kid was right! The box of recipes held _all_ the Christmas recipes ever devised. There would be no way an elf could be strong enough to lift the box or even take off the lid. And it would take several elves working together to even climb onto the counter.

"You know, I think you're right, Jamie," he admitted, wonder in his voice. Maybe the kid would be a help after all. But then his face fell again. "But if it wasn't an elf, who was it? I don't think Santa would take the recipe. And Mrs. Claus _never_ misplaces anything."

Jamie began to pace the kitchen, back and forth, thinking. "Well, I don't think it was the reindeers 'cause they don't have no thumbs. Daddy says we have 'posable thumbs."

"Posable thumbs?" Elmer looked at his. "Opposable thumbs. Yeah, it would have to be somebody with… hands."

"Maybe the Bominable Snowman!" Jamie squealed, delight in his voice.

_Sheesh_. Any higher on the scale and the kid would be calling in the Flying Monkeys.

"Ho, ho, ho, what have we here?" A loud, jolly voice came from the doorway. Nick Claus had been watching the interplay between his elf and Trixie and Jim's firstborn with delight. But _Elmer_ didn't have to know that.

Jamie's eyes rounded with wonder and for once, he was speechless. Santa! The _real_ one, right here in the North Pole and with elves and _everything! _

Nick strode into the room, ignoring Elmer's bright green blush. He picked up the little boy and settled him on the counter, right next to the big red recipe box. "So I take it Elmer here brought you to the North Pole to help solve our mystery," Santa boomed to the awestruck Jamie.

"I went to get his mother," Elmer began to explain, his voice getting higher and higher and sounding more and more like he had been sucking down immense amounts of helium. "But she…"

"She's _real_ fat, Santa," Jamie confided, and then clapped his hands over his mouth. Maybe he wasn't supposed to say that to Santa, either.

"That's because you're going to have some new brothers pretty soon, Jamie. And I do think you would hurt your mom's feelings if you told her she was fat. She has to be that way." Nick ran a gentle finger over the boy's bright red hair.

"I'm sorry, Santa," Jamie apologized. He didn't understand why people kept telling him not to say his mama was fat. She _was._

Nick turned to Elmer. "And you brought Jamie up here because…"

"Because I was _desperate._ Trixie Frayne is in no condition to travel, and I thought that her son might just be able to help." Watching Santa with the little boy sitting on the counter, he suddenly realized that idea was not exactly one of his best. His lime green eyes widened in trepidation.

"And so, young Jamie, what have you deduced so far?"

Jamie Frayne felt so very important. Santa was asking for _his_ help. He knit his brows together in fierce concentration and chewed on his lower lip. "It couldn't be an elf, Santa. The box is too big and heavy and it's hard to get up here. You had to pick me up."

"Very good. What else?"

"It couldn't be the reindeers 'cause they don't have 'posable thumbs."

Nick raised a hand and scratched at his white beard. "I think I just may know who the culprits are. Would you like to come with me?" He extended a hand to the smart little one. He was Trixie and Jim's boy, all right!

"Can Elmer come, too?" He stared up into Nick's faded blue eyes that still twinkled with a mischievous light.

"Elmer can come, too."

A moment later, man, child and elf were in front of a large ice cavern. The glittery neon light outside said _Polar Bear Lounge_. The little motto underneath said: _Come in and get a load off four feet and chew the blubber_ _with us_.

"But Santa," Jamie whispered in that stentorian whisper beloved of five year olds. "Bears will eat us!"

"Do you believe in me when I tell you it will be all right?" Nick chucked him under the chin.

"Welllll… okay." He gripped Nick's hand more firmly and took a deep breath and moved closer.

The lounge was full to the brim with polar bears, laughing and drinking one of seven different kinds of sea water, most of them imported from far away. The monitors placed strategically throughout the place had on Polar Sports, which included Ice Floe Fishing, Sliding Down Hills on Butts, and Best Belly Flop Techniques.

As soon as Nick and his two companions entered, the place fell silent, every bear in the place staring at them.

"You!" Elmer shouted at them. "You bears took the Reindeer Games cookie recipe!" He took a step forward, full of bravado… until the biggest and baddest bear growled at him.

His mama didn't raise an idiot. He jumped behind Santa.

"We don't know what yer talkin' about," the same bear continued, swaggering up to the trio.

"Oh, yes you do!" Jamie was so angry. This bear was lyin'! "You have paws and you can hold stuff. And you snuck into Mrs. Claus' kitchen and stold the recipe. And because of you there won't be _any _Christmas, unless you give it back. No Christmas! And I've been a good boy **ALL YEAR**." Tears began to slide silently out of those big, emerald green eyes.

"Bert," Nick held out his hand. "We need that recipe."

Bert grumbled and rumbled, but lumbered back to the bar, leaning over and rummaging behind it. He brought out an old, stuffed penguin one of the guys had found and tried to eat. They still laughed about it.

"The recipe is hidden in the beak," Bert sighed. Then, much stronger. "It's _not_ fair, Santa," he pouted.

"What's not fair?" Nick smiled at Jamie's giggles. He'd never seen a polar bear sulk before.

"Every Christmas, the reindeer get to eat the special cookies and they get to fly you all over the world, delivering presents. We're stuck back here, chewin' the fat. Maybe we'd like to take your sleigh for a spin. We wouldn't have let Christmas stop. We would have shown up at the last minute – me, Bob, Bill, Bruce, Barney, Barry, Bilbo and Bosworth, the red-nosed Polar Bear. We would have flown the sleigh." The image of eight polar bears, led by Bosworth, flying Santa through the night made all the patrons sigh with envy.

Nick put a hand on the bear's slumping shoulder. "Bert, I can appreciate that you want to join in the spirit of Christmas. I really do. But here in the lounge, you don't have all the ingredients. And the reindeer need the cookies as a booster. They _already_ know how to fly. They just need the extra oomph the cookies provide. Even if you somehow made the cookies," his deep laugh rumbled out. "All they would do is give you gas."

"But we still want to help, Santa," Bert said sadly.

"I have an idea!" Elmer popped out from behind Santa's back. "If you can promise not to eat us elves, you can haul the toys from one warehouse to another on sleighs on the ground. We usually use the reindeer, but they grouse about it the whole time." Darn reindeers, thinking they were better than everybody.

"Really? We can help?" Bert's beady bear eyes gleamed.

"I need your _promise,"_ Nick warned.

"Oh, we promise," Bert hurriedly declared. "Besides, elves taste like candy canes and boy, are they disgusting."

There was much cheering and discussion at the lounge while the logistics were worked out. Nick noticed when Jamie's eyes began to droop and the boy yawned widely. "I think our young man here had enough excitement for today." He bent down and whispered in Jamie's ear. "You _were_ a good boy all year, even with the Cookie Jar Incident."

"Thank you, Santa," Jamie's voice seemed far off. He blinked his eyes, trying to stay awake, when he found himself back in his bed, the sound of Santa's booming laugh in the distance. He was smiling as he fell asleep. He helped save Christmas!

Trixie entered the bedroom of her oldest child, seeing him sprawled out on the bed, sound asleep. She hoped he wasn't getting sick at Christmastime; he was usually the first one up (shades of his father!) and bouncing around with limitless energy.

"Jamie?" Trixie sat next to him, brushing his hair gently. She just hoped _she'd_ be able to get up without calling for help.

"Mama! Guess what!" After blinking his eyes a few times, he sat up in bed.

"What, baby?"

"I helped Santa and the elves with a mystry!"

Trixie smiled at her son's mispronunciation. "You did? What kind of 'mystry'? Who stole Rudolph's nose wax?"

"No, somebody stolded the recipe for the special reindeer flying cookies and I flewed to the North Pole. To help, 'cause Elmer said you're the best 'tective in the world!"

Trixie, who had been smiling at Jamie's recounting of his dream, suddenly stilled. "Wait. Did you say _Elmer?" _

"Yup. And the polar bears took it 'cause they have 'posable thumbs and they wanted to fly Santa and his sleigh. That would be silly, Mama."

_Oh my._ Trixie stared down at her boy, filled with love and pride. He might look and talk exactly like his dad, but he had her skills, no doubt.

"What did Santa say to you, Jamie?"

"He said that I was a good boy. And that I saved Christmas. But I did a wrong thing, going off with a stranger. I didn't mean to, Mama. I won't do it again, even if a bazillion elves come! And he said I was going to have the greatest Christmas gift of all. Do you think I'm getting my very own pony?"

Trixie ruffled his hair. "You and your pony! I guess Santa knows." She hurried to get him dressed and the family over to Crabapple Farm for Christmas Eve festivities.

Later on that evening, Trixie was sitting in the kitchen with Moms while all the grandkids and other grandparents filled the farm's stretchy walls to the limit. "You look wan, Trix. Everything okay?"

"Everything is…" she stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh, gleeps!"

"Honey, what's wrong?" Moms was instantly at her side.

"Moms, get Jim. Can you take the kids home and stay there with them? My water just broke." It was a lucky thing Jim insisted upon her having her bag in the car.

Jim came rushing into the kitchen. "Trixie, baby are you okay? Can you walk? Let me get you into the car." He had thrown his keys to Brian, telling him to warm it up. He simply scooped her up out of the chair.

He helped her into her coat and assisted her outside, all to the shouts of "Good Luck" and "We love you," and the scared look of her boys. They heard Mama was going to the hospital, and she couldn't be. Mama was _never_ sick. Grandmoms was telling them everything was going to be all right as she ushered them back into the warm house.

It didn't matter that these were their fourth and fifth children, and Jim should have been used to the dash to Sleepyside Medical Center. He still drove like a cautious maniac, if there was such a thing.

He wheeled his wife into the emergency room, not even noticing when the night nurse snarked, "Back _again_, Mr. Frayne?" Sheesh. These Fraynes, Beldens, Wheelers and Mangans were going to take over the town. Didn't they ever hear of _restraint?_

A short while later, Trixie was in the birthing room, another contraction battering at her tired body. "Why do I keep letting you _do_ this to me?" she moaned, gripping Jim's hand.

"It's the great sex, baby," he whispered in her ear, startling her into a laugh. At 12:05 AM, Christmas Day, Bailey Patrick Frayne was born. He was followed at 12:10 AM by Finnegan John Frayne. Both babies had shocks of red-gold hair and the Belden blue eyes.

"Maybe they'll keep the blue this time," Jim said. "Nothing they can do about the hair!"

"Oh woe, Jim, do you realize we have five boys age five… and under? And I thought my parents were bad!"

Jim leaned down and kissed her most thoroughly. "Thank you for my family," he whispered, tears glistening in his eyes. "I love you."

"And I love you. Now you better get home because the boys have been waiting for Christmas and I'm sure Santa paid a visit to Ten Acres." Trixie shooed him out. Poor Bailey and Finn. Cheated out of a real birthday_. Well,_ Trixie thought, _we'll just have to come up with something else._

Jim let himself in his house, tired and yet exhilarated as he was after all the births. Moms and Dad Belden and his parents were waiting in the living room, the lights of the tree gently reflecting on their faces as they whispered in hushed conversation.

"Hi. Trixie's fine, the boys are beautiful. Bailey was born at 12:05, Finn at 12:10. Bailey was almost seven pounds and Finn six and a half. Both are twenty-one inches long. Whew. Trix was _all _baby."

As hugs, kisses and slaps on the back were exchanged, a sleepy Jamie walked into the room. "Was Santa here?" he asked drowsily.

'Yes, he was, and he ate all the cookies you, Alex and Justin left. But you have to wait until later to open your presents," Moms said. "Santa gave you a great big present, too!"

"A pony?" He stared under the tree, but there didn't seem to be a pony there.

Jim knelt next to his son, taking him in his arms. "Two, not one, _two _new brothers. Bailey and Finn came for Christmas!"

Jamie put his sleepy head on his Daddy's strong shoulder, and nestled there. "That's nice. But I really wanted a pony."

As the adults erupted into laughter, Jamie could swear he heard Santa's deep laugh and the Elmer's high-pitched giggle. "You've been a big help and a good boy. Christmas surprises are yet to come."

He smiled into his father's neck and went to sleep, dreaming of ponies and polar bears and elves with lime green eyes… and the most delicious cookies he ever ate.

They could _almost_ make you feel like you were ready to go flyin'.


End file.
